*Me and My Bestie During Class: Fun and Masti 😂* We were in class, supposed to be learning about complex math formulas and historical dates, but our minds were elsewhere. My bestie and I would exchange silly glances, and I'd stifle a giggle as she made funny faces behind the teacher's back. One time, she passed me a note that read, "If I fall asleep, slap me awake." I couldn't help but chuckle, and the teacher caught us. We both got detention, but it was worth it. During another class, we had a secret language, using hand gestures and code words to communicate without the teacher noticing. It was like our own little world. We'd also make bets on how long the teacher would take to write a sentence on the board or how many times they'd use a particular phrase. It was all in good fun, and we never meant to disrupt the class. Despite the occasional trouble we got into, our friendship grew stronger through these shared moments of mischief. We balanced each other out, and our antics became legendary among our classmates. Looking back, those moments of fun and masti in class were some of the highlights of our school days. We learned to navigate the system, have each other's backs, and most importantly, not take ourselves too seriously. *More Funny Moments:* - We once convinced our friend to pretend to be asleep in class, and when the teacher called on him, he dramatically woke up, stretching and yawning. -😀😂🌝

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#likes#comment#forupage#viral#grow

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My Masoomiyat If someone ever made a museum of innocence, my photo would definitely hang in the entrance hall, framed with golden lights. People say I am so masoom that even Google searches my face when it needs a definition of “innocence.” My masoomiyat is not ordinary—it is a legendary brand, a limited edition, something that even angels look at and say, “SubhanAllah, what a masterpiece.” My masoomiyat is visible everywhere. For example, when I ask a shopkeeper, “Bhaiya, ye 50 ka 40 mein de do na,” and he laughs, pats my head, and still takes 50 rupees—he knows I’m too innocent to argue. My friends call me a walking cartoon character because I believe in every silly WhatsApp forward. If someone tells me, “Forward this message to 10 people, warna raat ko bhoot aayega,” I actually forward it to 20—just to be safe. That’s how seriously I protect my masoom soul. In class, my masoomiyat shines brightest. Teachers scold the whole class, but when they look at me, they pause and say, “Tum toh aise lagte ho jaise kabhi homework se mulakaat hi nahi hui.” I smile with my innocent eyes, and the teacher forgives me instantly. Even exams respect my masoomiyat—when I don’t know the answer, I draw little flowers on the answer sheet, hoping the examiner’s heart melts. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t, but my masoomiyat remains untouched. My masoomiyat also gets me into funny troubles. I once believed that the moon actually follows me when I walk at night. I proudly told my cousins, “Dekh lo, chaand bhi mera fan hai.” They laughed for three hours straight. Another time, I tried to charge my phone with the TV remote battery. Spoiler: it didn’t work, but my innocence was fully charged. Even in friendships, I’m so masoom that my bestie can steal my snacks, my pen, even my charger, and I’ll still smile and say, “Koi baat nahi, dost ki cheez bhi apni hoti hai.” But deep down, my heart cries louder than a Bollywood background violin. In short, my masoomiyat is my superpower. Some people have muscles, some have money, but I—proudly🤣🤣🤣🤣

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Mard or orat

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